


Imprints on the Ashes

by sayrahsunshine



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, what if draco had a sister
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-27
Updated: 2019-01-27
Packaged: 2019-10-17 13:19:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17561165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sayrahsunshine/pseuds/sayrahsunshine
Summary: "What a shame to waste youth so hastily."What if Draco had a sister? What if his childhood wasn't spent alone? What if losing her was the catalyst of him turning to the Dark Lord?





	Imprints on the Ashes

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this story over 7 years ago and posted it on HPFF under the username JohnnyPickAlot. I was 18 years old, just out of high school. I recently rediscovered this little fic of mine and found it to be somewhat salvageable. I revamped it just a tiny bit to clean up the verrrry passive writing. But there's only so much I can do lol. Enjoy.

 

Screams. Loud. Piercing. Too much to bare. It echoed against the ancient, solid rock that held the Manor together. Again and again they resounded in the young, frightened boy’s ears. He sobbed desperately in the temporary safety of the little alcove between his dresser and the cold wall. Clutching to his face, he clawed at his cheeks willing the screams to stop. Terrified, the boy couldn’t do more than wail silently.   


The door creaked open, letting in a slit of candle light from the hallway into his bedroom. He began to tremble even more, trying his best to keep quiet. The door quietly closed soon after, leaving the room pitch black again. Shuddered breaths escaped him as he heard the little pats of tiny feet come towards him. Hugging himself, he slunk deeper into his nook. 

 

“Go away,” he said barely above a whisper.

 

A face appeared by his feet. Sweet eyes, pale cheeks, shocking blonde hair like his own. The tiny girl, no older than four, crawled next to him behind the dresser and held him close.

 

“It’ll be over soon,” she whispered, her voice shaky. 

 

 The boy clutched to her as if he were to be dragged away. She returned the force of the hug right away.

  
“Where is mummy?” he whimpered.  


Sniffing, the girl snuggled her face into the boy’s hair, “Everything will be okay.”

 

“I don’t want to…I don’t want him to… Oh, I’m scared, Lyra,” the boy cried into the girl’s chest.

 

Cradling him, she began to rock them back and forth, “Don’t be, Draco. I won’t let anything happen to you.” Gently running her fingers through his hair, she kissed his forehead, “I will always keep you safe.” 

 

The boy sniffed and look up at her with glistening eyes, “No matter what?”

 

Nodding determinedly, she repeated, “No matter what.”

 

Leaning against her, the boy exhaled unevenly from sobbing for so long, “I love you, Lyra.”

 

“I love you more, brother,” she whispered to him while rocking them both into an restless sleep.

  
 

* * *

_Five years later_

 

Sunshine. Glorious, roaring wind whooshing past his ears. The cool, firmness of his first broomstick. Draco yelled in pure delight. Exquisite freedom.

 

He pivoted to a 90 degree angle downward toward the ground, grinning widely. Closer and closer the earth came to him until he sharply pulled back, shooting himself around the huge willow tree in the large Malfoy garden. In the distance, he heard his sister squeal in approval.

 

“Yeah, Draco! That was brilliant!”

 

Laughing, he banked right and flew towards her. Looking down, he saw her grinning, jumping and applauding his dip.

 

He cheered as well, fist pumping the air, not paying attention to where his broom was taking him. Lyra’s expression turned to one of horror.

 

“Draco! WATCH OUT!” she shrieked.

 

Looking in front of him, he only had a second to comprehend the tree before colliding into it.

 

Falling. The branches cut him brutally as he tumbled through them. He landed with a thump and a blurry head. Draco hear the wails coming from Lyra get closer as she ran to him.

 

“Draco! Are you hurt?” she asked frantically.

 

“I think I’ve broken something,” he groaned while pulling something from underneath him. His face dropped in despair to discover it was the handle to his brand new broomstick.

 

“Your broom! Oh no…” Lyra whispered, distraught. 

 

“Children! Where are you? What was that racket?” they heard their father shout into the garden.

 

Draco began to cry, “Merlin, my backside is going to meet the whip for this.”

 

Lyra shook her head fiercely, “No! I won’t let him hurt you.”

 

Quickly, she grabbed the remaining pieces of the broom and stood up.

 

“What? No! You’ll get in trouble.” Draco hissed. 

 

But it was too late. The heavy footsteps of their father, Lucius, could be heard clearer and clearer and soon he was in their sight. And he looked furious. 

 

“What are you two doing that is causing all that bloody noise? Did I not tell you two to be quiet while I have guests over?” he spat at them, his eyes that of cold steel.

 

“Yes, father,” they said softly while bowing their heads slightly to the ground.

 

Gritting his teeth, he placed his hands on his hips, glaring down at the two. “Well, then? What were you two doing?”

 

Tearing up, Draco was about to speak but Lyra cut him off, “I’m sorry, father. Draco had brought out his new broomstick that he had gotten for his birthday. I wanted to ride it first so I took it from him and flew into the tree behind us.” 

 

Her own eyes behind to tear up as she saw her father’s eyes grow harder and his fist tighten. Swallowing up her last bit of courage, she continued to lie, “I wasn’t looking where I was going and hit it head on. Because of this,” at this her voice cracked from the fear of the consequences, “I accidentally broke Draco’s broom.” 

 

Slowly, she brought the shards of the wood to her front so her father could see for himself. A few moments had passed and they were still standing in silence. 

 

Very cautiously, she looked up from the ground to her father’s face. “…Father?” She inquired softly.

 

His face was blank and there was a deep frown ebbed into his features. But the children knew better; they could see in his eyes that he was beyond livid.

Suddenly his face distorted into a horrible sneer and the back of his palm met with Lyra’s small face. 

 

The force of the blow sent her stumbling a few feet backward and landing on her bottom. Sobbing, she clutched at the right cheek which had already started to color due to a bruise. 

 

“You insolent, ungrateful child!” he seethed. Stepping towards her, he grabbed her by the collar and lifted her to his face, “I told you that you would get a broom of your own when you turned ten years of age. And you agreed to it. But now you ruined that for yourself. Draco got his broom at eight years old because he is a boy and less prone to getting hurt were he to fall. Even though you are older, by a year, you may not have a broomstick until I say you may. Is that understood?” He yelled.

 

“Yes, father,” she managed to whimper out, despite the pain. 

 

Lucius then stood up straight, nodding, “Good. Now, apologize to your brother, then go to your room. I suggest you stay there for you will not be getting supper tonight.”

 

“Yes father,” she repeated, getting up on shaky legs. Turning to Draco, who had tears streaming down his face, she quietly apologized. This in turn made him cry harder. 

 

Sneering, Lucius grabbed Draco by the arm and pulled him up harshly, holding him still by the shoulder, “Malfoy’s do NOT weep, Draco. Stop it this instant.”

 

Hearing the commotion, their mother, Narcissa, came outside with their aunt, Bellatrix, at her side. Quickly, they joined Lucius and the children, questions in their eyes.

 

“What’s all this about, then?” Bellatrix asked indifferently.

 

“Lyra, why are you crying?” Narcissa asked, concerned. Kneeling down to look the little girl in the eyes, she frowned, “What’s wrong with your face, dear?”

 

Sniffling, she looked at her father who in turn glared down at her, “I accidentally broke Draco’s broomstick because I flew into the tree. I hit my face while I fell,” she lied smoothly. 

 

Sensing the lie in her words, the women looked to Lucius. Straightening his posture, Lucius nodded, “Yes. That is what happened. She is now grounded to her room for the remainder of the day. She will not be getting supper either.”

 

“Now, Lucius. Don’t you think that is a bit rash? We can easily buy Draco a new broom and Lyra apologized,” Narcissa argued.

 

His face hardened at his wife’s retort, “Do not patronize me, woman! Plus, see how much Lyra upset Draco,” he snapped as he pushed his son, who was still sobbing, in front of him. “She must be punished.”

 

Narcissa, not knowing what to say, looked down at her son who was just shaking his head fervently. 

 

Frowning, she turned hardening eyes back at her husband, “That doesn’t seem to be what Draco wants.”

 

Lucius sneered, “Nonsense. He’s just so upset about her breaking his birthday present. Lyra! Why are you not in your room like I told you?” He shouted at the little girl who stood stock still like she was a deer caught in the headlights. 

 

Her frown becoming more profound, Narcissa walked toward her daughter and put her hand on her shoulder, “Come, dear. Let’s go.” With that, they left back inside the manor. 

 

Draco, Lucius and his aunt followed close behind. “No worries, pet,” Bellatrix cooed, “She’ll get what she deserves and you’ll get yourself a brand new broomstick by the end of the week. No doubt about that.” 

 

Not knowing what else to say due to the shock of it all, he just nodded. 

 

* * *

  


A few hours passed and Lucius’ guests had finally left. His parents had just recently gone to bed and put all the lights out. Quietly, Draco crawled out of bed, stepped into his slippers and grabbed a candle from his end table. Blowing on the wick, it caught flame and lit up his room. Very slowly, he made his way out of his room and to the kitchen, where he called the house elf, Dobby, to him to make a plate of their best food. Not even a minute passed before Dobby returned and presented him with the food. Thanking him, he turned back around and snuck into Lyra’s room.

 

Softly, he shook her out of her sleep and smiled as she looked up at him. “I’ve brought you some food. I’m sure you’re hungry,” he whispered, placing her meal, lamb chops with a fine glazing of mint-fig sauce, on her end table, along with the candle.   


Grinning, she sat up and dug in. They sat there in comfortable silence until she was finished. Once she was done, Draco took her plate and walked to the door, gently placing the platter on the floor where Dobby could pick it up. Sure enough, as soon as he turned around to walk back to Lyra, a pop sounded, followed by another pop, signaling that Dobby had come and gone. 

  
Frowning, Draco sat next to his sister, “I’m sorry that you got into trouble today. I wish you hadn’t lied to save me from punishment. I should have been the one to go without supper.” He almost began to cry again before his sister’s hand pulled his face up to look her in the eye.  
 

“I promised you that I would never let anything happen to you. I’m never going to break that promise. Okay?” She smiled at him, squeezing his hand as comfort.

 

“Okay,” he smiled back but it suddenly dropped when he saw the dark bruising cover half of her face. Anger started to fill him the longer he stared at it, “One day, I’ll hit him even harder and nearly knock his head off his shoulders for that,” he growled, his eyebrows making a deep crease in the middle.  


Placing her hand over her bruised cheek, she shook her head, “Oh, you will do no such thing. Plus, it’s nothing, Draco. Don’t worry yourself,” she reassured.

 

Draco looked down at their intertwined hands and sniffled, “I hate it when he hurts you. I hate it when he hurts mum. I hate him. I want him to go away.”

 

Beginning to cry herself, she pulled him in for an embrace, “Shush, Draco. Don’t cry.” Softly, she rubbing the back of his head, “Everything is going to be just fine. You’ll see.”

 

Nodding in acceptance, Draco drifted off into comfortable sleep. 

  
 

* * *

 

_Six years later_

 

Cold. Dark. The clouds hung over the manor eerily as Draco approached the grand French doors that led to the front foyer. Quietly, he stepped in wishing that it was the doors to the magnificence of Hogwarts, rather than his dreary home. It never felt like Christmas at the Malfoy manor ever since the Dark Lord entered his family’s life yet again.

 

He stilled. Silence. Much too quiet. Where was everyone?

 

Softly, he stepped over to the large sofa that sat away from the fireplace in the rather spacious den. He glanced around, searching for one of the elves, his sister, anyone. A cough echoed through the room.

 

“Evening, Draco,” said an unmistakable raspy voice. 

 

He whipped around. Sat in the far corner of the foyer on a leather settee, sat Professor Snape. Draco’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, “Where is my family?” He stepped closer to the man.

 

The professor’s eyes glanced down to his feet, oddly troubled. A few moments passed and still no answer.

 

“Godfather, I asked you a question.” He snipped. “Where is my family?” He tried his best to push back the gnawing worry in his mind.

 

At this, Snape looked the young man in the eye, “She should have obeyed.” His voice barely above a whisper. “That’s all she had to do. Obey.” 

 

Damning realization spread through him and felt like someone had dumped cold water on his brain. He sprinted upstairs to the main lobby. Still there was silence. Not seeing anybody, he headed toward the right corridor, running as if he had a hound on his tail. 

 

He found himself sprinting in a half circle around the whole manor before he halted before a large, wooden door. He had more felt rather than heard a subtle _thwack_ from behind the walls and he knew deep down that they were all inside of that room. 

 

He grabbed the door handle but it wouldn’t budge. “Fuck,” he cursed to himself, smacking the door frame in aggravation. He swiftly pulled out his wand, doing his best to lower the wards on the room so he could enter, but the magic was strong. Almost too strong. But, Draco was determined.

 

“Hold on, Lyra,” he panted as he continued to work, “I’m coming.” Sweat began to pool on his forehead. Never had he attempted to push through such thick barriers. He stumbled against the wall as fatigue crawled up his spine. Another inaudible _thwack_ resonated through the hallway. Panic zinged through his limbs and he forced himself upright again with a growl. _He could do this_. With one final burst of energy and sheer will, the wards were broken.

 

He slammed the door open, nearly falling into the room. The heavy mahogany banged against the wall. 

 

The air in the room was thick, almost as if an invisible fog had settled. His mother was shrieking at the very top of her lungs clutching at his father’s arms. His father was straining to hold her back from running to the center of the room. 

 

Everything was in slow motion. Draco stepped forward into the large office and stared incredulously at his father before glancing to the center. 

 

Bellatrix stood tall with her right arm splayed to the side, her menacing nails like claws ready to strike. Her left hand held her wand firmly above her head, pointed downward like a cobra ready to strike. 

 

Her face contorted in such a way that it was almost unbearable to watch but he could not pull away his gaze. Bellatrix’s eyes reflected the hate and mania that was held inside her black heart. She screeched loudly before her voice tumbled into a cackle. Draco’s eyes shot down to what lay at Bellatrix’s feet.

 

His worst nightmares came true as he saw striking blonde hair streaked with blood splayed across the polished hardwood flooring. A frail, long body twisted in such way that was not humanly possible. Shining, bloodshot, silver eyes, so like his own, stared back at him. He felt as though she were seeing through him.

 

Lyra screamed.

 

“ **NO**!” he bellowed, bolting towards his sister. But before he could reach her, Lucius blocked him with his free arm, forcing both him and his mother backwards. 

 

“She must learn her place, Draco!” his father yelled, restraining them both the best he could.

 

“Let me go!” Draco cried, using all of his strength against his father, but to no avail. 

 

The tormented screams mixed with Bellatrix’s squeals of manic glee seemed endless as Draco continued to struggle.

 

Then silence.

 

Taking his window of opportunity, Draco shoved past his father and collapsed on to the ground next to Lyra, dragging her into his arms. She was out cold, her body hung limp as he cradled her face. He whipped a hateful glare at his aunt. His face contorted with rage.

 

Bellatrix sneered at him, “She got what she deserved.” Brushing her hands as if to clear it of dust, “If not for the awful racket that you were making, I would have continued.”

 

“Bitch!” Draco seethed, clenching his fist around his wand so hard, his knuckles popped. “I will end you for this.”

  
At this, Bellatrix chuckled darkly, “I would like to see you try, boy,” and walked out of the office.   
 

“Mark my words,” Draco spat at the spot where Bellatrix was standing, “She’s a dead woman.” 

 

Gingerly, he picked the frail girl up from the floor, dead weight in his arms. He began to walk out of the office. His father moved forward, but Draco immediately shoved past him.

 

“You have no right to touch her,” he rasped and continued to carry Lyra away, his mother followed right behind him.

 

* * *

 

Damp. Miserable. The image of a slender figure in a hooded cloak dodging through the wood haunted his being. 

 

Lyra was gone. 

 

They had helped her escape the bars of the place they each called home to live a better life. One without the Dark Lord. 

 

Tears slid freely down his face as he sat in the small alcove between his dresser and the cold wall. 

 

It was raining outside. It calmed him. It made the tears come easily.

 

He wished fiercely that he could have gone with her. But, it was too late for that now. 

 

The door creaked open making Draco alert, wand at the ready. Quickly, he wiped his face and point his wand outward. Heavy footsteps came towards his alcove and stopped right before the opening.

 

“Get up, Draco,” came the voice of his godfather. “She may be gone, but she is not dead.”

 

Draco slowly stood up and moved into the light, “I know this.”

 

Snape surveyed him thoroughly, noticing the redness of his eyes from his tears, “Then, grow up. No more whimpers. No more whines. There is no time or need for that in this world that you live in.”

 

Gritting his teeth, Draco nodded stiffly as his godfather turn swiftly in the other direction and walked out of his bedroom.

 

It was in that moment that Draco no longer cried, no longer searched, and no longer wished for Lyra. It was in that moment that Draco became cold and heartless. It was in that moment that Draco became a man. 

 

What a shame to waste youth so hastily.

 


End file.
